Another Chance
by Gmariam
Summary: Jack Harkness meets Ianto Jones in a London pub, celebrating his birthday with friends from Torchwood One.


Another Chance

Jack wandered into the small pub near Canary Wharf, his spirits low. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find in London, but it was nothing like what he'd hoped. If Cardiff had felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, then London was even more foreign and surreal. It was completely unlike traveling through time, where he expected things to be different; nor was it like traveling across the galaxy in a sleek ship, exploring new planets and alien cultures.

This was London. This was where he had met the Doctor and Rose Tyler. This was supposed to be familiar, safe. Instead, he felt more alone than ever.

It had been almost three months since he'd been flung through the barriers between dimensions. At first, he'd thought he had traveled in time, until well-known sights appeared slightly changed, well-loved faces didn't know who he was. He remembered the Doctor telling him about parallel universes, but the Doctor had also said the barriers were closed. Well, apparently not anymore: Jack was well and truly trapped in a world not his own.

Given the state of things in his own world, it hadn't bothered him much at first. He could set out to make a new life for himself, free of the pain and loss he'd suffered year after year. Yet finding things so similar yet so different had proven more challenging than he'd thought. History was changed, social mores were slightly different, and though the year was the same, technology was far ahead of the world he'd left. And even stranger, Torchwood was not a secret. Torchwood Three was a gleaming glass building on the bay, utterly impractical in Jack's mind—ugly and unsafe. Torchwood One still oversaw everything from Canary Wharf, Torchwood Two was twice as large as he'd ever known it, and apparently, Torchwood Four had never been lost.

Even more unsettling had been tracking down people he knew and realizing they did not know him. Gwen Cooper was a detective inspector with the Cardiff police force, Rhys Williams a branch manager for Harwoods Cardiff. Andy Davidson had died in the line of duty working for Torchwood Three. Other friends and acquaintances had followed similar divergent paths; a few never existed, and several were dead.

This new Cardiff no longer feel like his old home, so Jack had decided to start over in London instead. He'd gone to Trap Street—still there, still alien, though under different management—and found someplace he fit in. Displaced from his own universe and out of his time, he'd been able to find quick work, a place to stay, and an understanding ear in the alien bartender of the Summer Sunset. Tomas was from a planet light years away, but had been living on earth for decades. He'd seen stranger things than stranded time travelers and had taken Jack under his wing, filling Jack in on life in London.

Apparently, Torchwood One was rich, powerful, and even more surprising—friendly to aliens. It seemed this Torchwood had avoided the 'if it's alien, it's ours' mentality of Jack's Torchwood London and instead worked for the betterment of mankind and the protection of the planet. They even worked cooperatively with the government and military. They had to, as Tomas had never heard of the Doctor; apparently in this universe, the Doctor did not participate in Earth's history. Torchwood, not UNIT, was on the forefront of Earth's defenses.

Tomas had encouraged Jack to approach Torchwood One, telling him his talents were wasted at the pub, but every day, after a few hours of sitting and starting at the tower, Jack always went back to the Summer Sunset, cleared the tables, served a few drinks, and fell into bed. After a few weeks, he thought about tumbling into someone's else's bed to lessen the boredom, and began frequenting the local bars and clubs. It was still a dull existence, however; empty and meaningless, with few genuine connections. He wondered how he could possibly make a life for himself in a country that was still so foreign to him. For the first time in his life, he could not adapt.

It was now mid-August and he'd decided to travel, to see what else he might find in a world so different than his own; if he didn't like what he saw, he'd leave Earth and return to the stars. Tomas had lent him some money, and he was leaving in the morning. Gazing at Torchwood Tower one last time, he flipped it a two-fingered salute and walked away. Torchwood was not meant to be a part of his life anymore.

He decided he needed a drink, and a small pub nearby beckoned, so he stepped inside, feeling less excited about his trip and more disappointed about leaving than he ever had. Normally, traveling was an adventure; this time it felt like a failure, like running away. He wished he was back in his own dimension, where at least the pain and loss was tangible, and he'd had some measure of a life with friends, lovers, and coworkers.

As Jack took a seat at the bar, he noticed a group of a dozen office workers sitting at several tables in the back of the pub. He guessed they were Torchwood, off work early on a Friday afternoon. They had that look about them, the look he'd come to associate with the men and women he'd seen entering Canary Wharf as he'd watched over the weeks. Well-dressed, intelligent, confident, and always smiling or laughing. Torchwood One must be a very different place than the one Jack had known.

The group was not loud and raucous, but obviously close and enjoying their time together. Jack missed having coworkers to go out with after work, to laugh and drink with, and tried not to watch them with envy. After about an hour and at least two rounds of pints, they started singing. They were celebrating someone's birthday, and as they finished the song, Jack turned around in shock:

 _Happy Birthday, Ianto—Happy Birthday to you!_

Ianto might have been a common name in Cardiff, but not in London. And It couldn't be a coincidence, not right outside Torchwood One. Jack stared, trying to find the man they were singing to. He was seated in the middle of the group, a pint in one hand as he smiled and laughed with the crowd. He looked older, wiser, happier…and yet lonely. Jack couldn't believe his eyes.

Ianto Jones.

The other man noticed Jack staring and held his gaze for a few moments before looking away to talk to his friends. Jack turned back to the bar, his heart pounding. Ianto Jones. It had been years since he'd lost his Welsh lover, right here in London. Obviously in this universe Ianto had survived working for Torchwood. It appeared he'd never left London and still worked at Canary Wharf. Because this Torchwood One had not been destroyed by Cybermen. Which meant…was Lisa Hallett still alive as well? She was not amongst the group.

Jack suddenly wondered about the other friends he'd lost before Ianto, Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper. Were they still alive? They'd both been from London as well. Maybe if they hadn't joined Torchwood, they were still living their lives peacefully, far away from deadly aliens and vengeful siblings.

He'd look for them later. He couldn't leave now, he'd found Ianto Jones. It was a miracle, a turn of fate he never thought the universe would see fit to grant him. He always lost everyone, everything—had the universe given back this once? He turned to watch the group again, his eyes drawn to the magnetic Welshman at the center of the laughing and talking.

He was wearing a beard, with a few more lines and wrinkles around his eyes. Dressed in an immaculate blue pinstripe, he'd taken off his jacket and tie and looked fit and casual. No wedding ring…Jack found himself unusually relieved. It was unlikely Ianto wasn't with someone, but at least he wasn't married. Jack might have a chance, if he wanted it. Of course, this man might not be interested in someone like Jack, or in men at all. This man was years older, with different experiences shaping his life.

Ianto looked up and met Jack's gaze once more. Jack ordered another drink to calm his nerves. For one of the first times in his life, he did not know how to approach someone he was interested in. Ianto Jones was someone he had known for years, a man he had loved—but in another life, another universe. The man sitting thirty feet away was clearly a very different man. The fear of rejection was overwhelming; he did not want to lose Ianto twice. How would he survive it?

He was about to settle his tab and leave, forget all about Ianto Jones and continue with his plans to travel, when he felt someone sit down beside him. Without even turning, Jack knew it was Ianto; he'd recognize the other man's presence, his scent, anywhere, anytime. He tensed as Ianto ordered a scotch; it was the same drink Jack had shared with his Ianto years ago, relaxing together at the end of a long day.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Ianto asked without looking over at him. "Or is that too cliché?"

"A line that works is classic, not cliché," Jack replied. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ianto smile and motion for a second drink.

"I'm usually a bit more creative," Ianto said when their drinks were set before them. "But sometimes joking about dinosaurs doesn't work."

Jack almost spit out his drink. "It would've worked," he managed. "I love pterodactyls."

Ianto laughed. "You don't look like a paleontologist," he said. "I like the coat. World War I?"

"Two," Jack said. Ianto frowned, and Jack remembered that was something different in this universe—and that Jack appeared far too young for the coat to be his own anyway. "It was my grandfather's. I flew with the RAF as well."

"You don't sound like you're from around here," Ianto pointed out.

"Exchange program," Jack said. "I'm Jack."

"Ianto." They shook hands, and Jack felt familiar fingers clasp his own. It was all he could do to keep it together. It had been years since he'd lost Ianto, why was this affecting him so much?

"Shouldn't you be celebrating with your friends?" Jack asked, inclining his head toward the back of the pub where Ianto's friends were almost certainly watching their exchange. "I heard it was your big day."

Ianto smiled into his drink. "Not every day a bloke turns thirty-five," he agreed, as if it were a milestone in this universe. "But I couldn't help notice you looking over."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," Jack said.

"It's fine. Rachel wanted to know who you were eyeing up. I said it was probably her, but she thinks it's Kieran."

Jack glanced over his shoulder at the group—they were definitely watching the conversation at the bar—and turned back to Ianto with what he hoped was a confident grin; he was totally faking it, even if he was about to tell the truth.

"I was looking at you," Jack replied. "I like the suit."

The only reaction was a slight widening of beautiful blue eyes, covered neatly with a grin and another sip of scotch.

"I'm flattered, but I don't believe you."

"A gorgeous Welshman in a pinstripe suit, sitting next to me sipping a scotch? What's not to love?"

"I'm not gay," Ianto replied, but his lips still twitched.

"Neither am I."

"That's not the word on Trap Street." Ianto slid his eyes up to meet Jack's. "Captain Harkness."

Jack set down his scotch, his stomach abruptly in knots. This was not going at all like he had hoped or planned—but then, nothing with Ianto had ever gone like that. It had always been surprise after surprise, some good, some horrible, from their first kiss to falling in love to the tragic events of Thames House and the House of the Dead. Apparently, even Ianto Jones in another universe could throw Jack for a loop.

"I feel like I've been set up," Jack said. "Though I'm not sure who's responsible."

"Well, I really am celebrating my birthday," Ianto replied. "You're the one stalking me."

"I'm not stalking you!" Jack exclaimed, thinking back to his first few meetings with Ianto Jones in his own universe. "I had no idea you were even alive, much less here in London, working for Torchwood One—" He stopped as he realized he'd said too much. Ianto, however, did not seem surprised.

"You've been watching Torchwood Tower for weeks," he said. "When I asked Tomas, he said I should talk to you."

"You saw me?" Jack asked. This was getting worse and worse. "You know Tomas?"

"I occasionally liaise with Trap Street," Ianto shrugged. "I saw you outside the building several times, and when I saw you on Trap Street last week, I asked him about you."

"I'm not alien," Jack said immediately.

"I know," Ianto said with a smile. "You are, however, still covered with interdimensional energy." He held up a small, hand-held scanner. "So, care to have another drink somewhere more private and share your story, Captain?" he asked.

"It's your birthday," Jack reminded him, wanting to go and yet wanting to run. "You should be with your friends, having fun."

Ianto finished his drink and let his eyes roam up and down Jack in a way that almost gave him shivers. "The night is still young," he said. "And I don't mind. They'll probably cheer me on."

"I'm flattered," Jack replied, echoing Ianto's earlier refusal, "but I don't believe you."

"A gorgeous American in a vintage greatcoat, sitting next to me and sipping a scotch? What's not to love?"

"I'm not what you think I am," Jack warned him.

"You're not an intergalactic time-traveler from a parallel dimension?" the Welshman asked, pretending to be surprised. "Damn. That's exactly what I wanted for my birthday."

Jack wanted so badly to parry back, to banter sexual innuendo like he had with his lover so many years ago. But this wasn't his lover. This was Ianto Jones, Torchwood One. He was thirty-five years old and quite likely even more sharp and dangerous than the man Jack had known and loved. He had already been hurt once by this man's death. Could he dare let himself fall again?

"Tomas makes a brilliant Arcturian martini," Jack finally replied. "We can talk openly there, if you don't mind drinking with aliens." Ianto cocked his head, smiled, and nodded.

"Of course not. The Summer Sunset it is, then," he replied. "Let me tell my friends I'm leaving."

"Are they Torchwood?" Jack asked. Ianto nodded. "Do they know who I am?"

"Not at all," Ianto said. "They probably think I'm on the pull." His grin was slightly wicked; Jack was very confused.

"So is this drink business or pleasure, then?" he asked. Ianto worked for Torchwood One, and while Tomas had told him repeatedly that Torchwood was friendly to stranded aliens and time travelers, Jack couldn't shake the image of his own Torchwood London using whatever and whomever it could for its own means and ends.

"A little bit of both," Ianto admitted. "I'm not going to turn you in, Captain, if that's what you're worried about. I'm intrigued by what little I know of your story, and Tomas told me I could trust you." He paused, his face clouding over with confusion. "I feel like we've met before, like I know you. Or that you know me."

Jack smiled sadly. "I knew a man named Ianto Jones once, yes."

"And he died." Jack nodded in surprise. "You were startled to see me alive, so it was a good guess."

"He worked for Torchwood. We both did. In my universe, it's dangerous. Top secret, underfunded, disrespected. At one point, there was only two of us left."

Ianto looked surprised but sympathetic. "It sounds difficult."

"It was," Jack admitted. "That's why I've been watching the tower for so long. I couldn't bring myself to walk in. I lost almost everything because of Torchwood. It's how I ended up stuck here."

"I definitely want to hear your story, then," said Ianto. "And it sounds like you need to tell it. Maybe this Torchwood can help."

"Maybe. I'm not much of a talker, though," Jack warned him, remembering when his Ianto had once told him the same thing. And it had been true for them both: they'd not talked much, not about the things that mattered.

"A man of action?" Ianto teased.

Normally he'd wink, but it was hard enough to reply with a smile. "In more ways than one."

Ianto laughed and shook his head. "Tomas wasn't exaggerating when he said you were an incorrigible flirt, even if it is a forced effort." He paid his tab as well as Jack's with the bartender, then stood up to return to his friends. "I'll meet you outside if you want to grab a cab and get that drink."

Jack nodded and Ianto turned to leave. Jack couldn't resist reaching out to take his hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice cracking.

"For what?" Ianto asked curiously.

"For being you," Jack said. "And giving me another chance."

Ianto had amused look on his face. "It's only a drink, you know."

"It means more than that to me," Jack told him. He dropped his hand and stepped back before he grabbed the man in front of him and kissed Ianto senseless.

Ianto seemed to sense the intensity of the moment and nodded solemnly. "I look forward to it, Captain."

Jack watched him walk away before turning abruptly toward the door. He needed fresh air. He had found Ianto Jones, a mad dead to him for almost a decade. He was as stunning and amazing as ever—perhaps more so, for he'd lived a longer life and grown into himself. This man didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, didn't bear the shadow of loss in his eyes.

Perhaps with such a man, Jack could set aside his cares and worries, his guilt and pain. He was getting ahead of himself, but perhaps with such a man he could find some peace, even love. He suddenly wanted it more than anything. Another chance, starting that night with a drink, then perhaps dinner and a movie.

Another chance to be with Ianto Jones.

* * *

Author's Note:  
Written in honor of Ianto Jones's 35th birthday, because dead fictional characters deserve birthday wishes too. I have no plans to write more, so I hope you enjoyed this short story of hope. Thank you for reading!


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